


Remissio

by titC



Series: The Fortnight of Latin Titles [5]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Growing Pains, I'm making an effort here guys, Lucifer has a Chloe's hair fetish, big fam outing, fam feels, lots of hugs, no one dies, no one is sick, or maybe it's just the author, parenting, please don't hug the author though, self-worth comes from within, sleep and breakfast and tribe love will mend your heart, stealth Linda/Maze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:27:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Er, check the tags, I suppose?Also, everyone loves Trixie.





	Remissio

**Author's Note:**

> Remissio: Latin for forgiveness, pardon, releasing.

Lucifer had to admit, a weepy teenager wasn’t what he had been expecting when he strode from the lift. Especially not one that had broken into his stash of fine brandy.

“What are you doing, young lady?” he asked as gently tried to remove a glass – not even the proper kind, she’d used a margarita one – and a bottle from the spawn’s grip. “Come on, your mother will kill us both if she ever finds out about this.” She finally opened her fingers enough to let him take the alcohol away.

He considered her in silence for a while. She was sniffling still, avoiding his eyes, and her face looked blotched as if she’d been crying for a while before he’d arrived. As the years went by, she looked more and more like Chloe, all impish expressions, defined cheekbones and full lips. She was already turning heads, he knew. (He’d tried not to unscrew those heads from their respective necks because her mother disapproved of this kind of behaviour, but he knew her father would not lift a finger to stop him.)

“Right. So, can you tell me what happened?”

She shook her head. He waited. “It’s Brian,” she finally said. Her eyes went back to the liquor.

“No, none of that.” He poured some water in a tall glass and steered her to the sofa. “You’re 15, you probably don’t even like the taste.” She shrugged. He raised his eyebrows.

“He dumped me.”

“Oh. I see.” Chloe had been fretting about precisely this, lately. Well, not _this_ exactly, but her daughter’s first heartbreak, certainly. Her little childhood loves had never been the source of much anguish so far, but this time…

“I want to forget him.”

“I’m sure you do,” he answered. _You won’t be able to_ , he didn’t say.

“I hate him.”

“Why did you come to me, then? Why not Maze? You could have planned some proper revenge together.”

The spawn burst into fresh tears. “I don’t want to kill him!”

“I thought you hated him.”

“I don’t _know_!”

After that, he couldn’t get anything more from her; she was sobbing too hard. What did humans do then? “Do you want your mother? Or your…” She shook her head vehemently. “Fine. I’ll just text her you’re here, all right? And that she doesn’t have to worry and that everything is under control.” Well, for a certain definition of control anyway, but at least he’d put a stop to her quest to destroy brain and liver before her next birthday.

Should he also ask Chloe for some advice? If he did, though, she’d probably want to come right away and comfort her child, which said child didn’t seem to want right now… but maybe she needed it? He was torn. He didn’t know what to do. Not to make things worse of course, and to show both mother and child (and maybe his father and even, perhaps, himself) he could be a reliable person, someone who could be counted on to properly care for others all on his own. Chloe trusted Maze with her daughter and he couldn’t be worse than a demon, yes? And the Detective did let him pamper her sometimes (although not as often as he’d like), so she probably trusted him just a little bit already, right?

Right. Basic needs first. “Are you hungry?” he tried. “You should eat something. How much have you drunk?” He eyed how much brandy was left. Most of it was still in the bottle and not in her stomach, but she was just a child who’d never had alcohol before, as unimpressed and blasé as she tried to look. She pretended she hadn’t heard him. “Yes, food. Come, I’ll need you in the kitchen. Go wash your face, you’ll fell better, yes? Less red, at least.” Hopefully. “Then we’ll make whatever you want.”

Preparing food with the offspring usually made her rather happy, and appealed to her love for both making messes and eating the devil’s cuisine. Besides, it was guaranteed to put a smile on Chloe’s face, as long as they didn’t leave the kitchen for her to clean and tidy. Well, it had only happened the once, really; and they’d learned their lesson after that.

He heard her in the bathroom as he started to take inventory of what he had and hadn’t got in his fridge and cupboards. He felt he could do with a stiff drink himself right now – well, he always could – but it probably was a Very Bad Idea, and he tried to limit those nowadays.

“I’m really not hungry,” she mumbled when she sat. She kept her eyes on the table, on her folded hands. She was still and quiet, and it was unsettling.

“You’ll be sick if you don’t eat anything. I’m not giving your mother back a sick daughter, I’d like to remain in one piece, thank you very much.”

“I won’t be sick.”

“Yes you will, grasshopper.” Even if her mother seemed mostly immune to hangovers, she had way more experience and training than a teenage girl.

“No! I want… I want…”

He hurried around the table. What to do? Pat her shoulder, her back? Her head, maybe? Say, ‘there, there,’ or swear everything would be fine? Or – or. She’d left her chair to run at him and bury her face in his shirt, and now she was crying even harder. What was wrong with food anyway? If he hadn’t been what he was, the way her arms squeezed his waist would have surely broken a rib. He suddenly realized she was almost as tall as her mother now; her head reached the middle of his chest these days. The thought was disquieting, and he wondered why.

He let his own arms fold around her, and for once wished he could do the same with his wings, wished he could keep the world at bay in a soft white cocoon of divine grace and protect the innocent from all sinners. A test of mankind, hah. The offspring didn’t deserve to go through _this_ , either. Chloe said everyone did, that _she_ did; but… why? That was the question he’d never got an answer too, and never would.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I want a boyfriend just like you,” she mumbled in his chest when her tears had somewhat subsided.

The kitchen counter was digging into his kidneys and his shirt was wet and probably stained with snot and mascara; and the most precious thing on earth in Chloe’s eyes – Chloe, who was _his_ most precious thing in all of creation, really – had lost all reason. “Of course not. You should aim for better than that, if you want a boyfriend.”

She shook her head against him, probably smearing more make-up everywhere on the Armani. “Mom’s happy with you.” Well, there were certainly things he could do that made her glow, but he suspected she didn’t need him. Not like he did her. He hadn’t known, before. He hadn’t known so many things.

“Nevertheless.” he felt her hands curl into fists in his back, digging into his scars. He winced; they were quite sensitive these days. “Your mother loves you more than anything, you know. And so does your father. You’ll always, always have that.” A parent’s love, unconditional and bottomless, trying to nudge you out of the wrong path but encouraging you to take your own; a door always open even in the darkest, coldest night… that, too, had been new. He’d even been jealous, once. Jealous of a little girl who still somehow trusted him.

“And you?”

“Me?”

“Do you love me?”

“Well, you’re ruining my suit and I’m not complaining, am I?”

He felt her huff a little laugh. “And you always will, too?”

“Well. Just don’t drink all my liquor or scratch my car, and we’ll be all right.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said into her hair.

 

It was rather late when Chloe finally let herself into Lucifer’s penthouse. She found him smoking outside, a wrinkled and stained shirt hanging open from his shoulders.

“She’s sleeping,” he said.

“That’s good.”

“She didn’t want to eat anything.”

“That’s normal.”

“But…”

“It’s all right, Lucifer. You were there for her.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

Chloe took the cigarette from his hand and crushed it in the ashtray. “Didn’t you?” She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheekbone, right above the stubble. “Come inside.” He took her hand and kissed her palm, his eyes on her face. “ _I_ ’m hungry. Feed me. We’ll leave some in the fridge for when she wakes up.”

She followed him to the kitchen and she tried not to stare too obviously at him; all his skin and perfect body on display. And angry red scars under the shirt, too. She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t volunteered; but she’d noticed he was more careful not to lean on anything, not sleeping on his back anymore. Seeking her touch more than usual, too; as if it soothed him.

They chopped and stirred and kissed in between, and after they’d eaten and stored the remains in the fridge and looked in on Trixie, still fast asleep with a frown marring her brow, she dragged him to his huge shower. Her day had been long and tiring; strong, hot jets and his fingers massaging her scalp was exactly what she needed. He even untangled her hair, much more gently than she ever did herself. As always, he gave her all his attention, and she was rather sleepy and very, very relaxed when they got out. His eyes were so soft on her as he wrapped a giant, ridiculously fluffy bathrobe around her and carried her like the fleeciest human burrito ever, while she pretended she wanted to be let down and walk like the dignified police officer she was and really hid her smile in his warm shoulder.

She wriggled out of the thick fabric to slide into the oversized shirt and the sleep shorts he handed her while he grabbed some underwear for himself, since Trixie nearby meant enforcement of the No Full Monty rule. She settled under the sheets and fell asleep with her most human of angels curled around her, careful not to crush her even in sleep and yet unable to keep away, one of his hands on the skin of her stomach. His warm, regular breaths on her nape quickly lulled her into dreamland.

 

“Mom?” Trixie half-walked, half-stumbled out of the guest room Lucifer had set up years ago now. The sun was already high in the sky, and she blinked at the bright light pouring in through the high windows. She couldn’t see either of them, but she followed their low voices to the kitchen.

“Hey, Trix,” her mother said as she let herself fall into her arms. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

She buried her nose in her mother’s soft cotton blouse. “I don’t want to be 15 anymore. Can I be 10 again?”

“Was it really better?” There was the sound of the fridge door being opened, pans being set on the stove. He was making her pancakes. “I think you eat even more now than then. I can’t keep up with your stomach,” he added.

“M’sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be, monkey. We made too much for dinner just so you’d have leftovers in case you woke up hungry in the night.”

She let her mother hold her until Lucifer set a plate on the table for her piled high with food, then a tall glass of fresh juice, and then pushing at her everything she might want to pour, spread or drizzle on the pancakes. He dropped a kiss on her mom’s hair and wandered away afterwards, probably to get out of that ridiculous silk robe he favored in the mornings.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Or maybe he’d wanted to leave the kitchen before The Parenting began.

“Not really.” Adding a few drops of (real, pure) maple syrup and twirling her knife in it was conversation enough.

“All right.” The sound of coffee poured into a mug. “I brought you a few things from home yesterday night.”

“Thanks.” Good to know she’d have clean underwear, but then her mom had always been the practical, level-headed one. “Is it always that bad?”

“Oh, baby – sorry, I know you don’t like it when I call you baby.” Well, right now she’d take it gladly. Being a baby again… it sounded perfect. “Sometimes it’s really bad, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes you’re sad because you made a mistake, or because they did, or because it’s no one’s fault.”

“And you learn from it?” That’s what she’d read, but it sounded more like what was supposed to happen than what actually happened.

“Well. You wish you did.” Her mom set her coffee back on the table. “Come on, Trixie. I know you have questions.”

Oh, she did. About Mom and Dad, about Mom and Lucifer, about Linda and Maze, about… well. “You’re happy now, yeah?”

“Yes, very. Well, not when you’re all sad like now, of course. But yeah, I am.”

“More than with Dad?”

There was a long sigh as she cut her last pancake into smaller and smaller bits. “Your dad and I were very happy for years. But we were both young, and we both changed, and… It just didn’t work out anymore.”

“He said it was his fault too.”

“He did?”

“That he sort of betrayed you. He never said more, though.”

“Your father did idiotic things with the best of intentions,” Lucifer said from the door jamb. “And yes, some parts of hell are actually paved with those. I’d know. He’s a repeat offender, too.”

Her mother glared at him. Why they pretended she didn’t know he really was  _the_ Lucifer baffled her. “And that’s not the kind of thing you ever do, of course.” He looked indignant for a second or two, then chastised.

“How can you forgive them, then? If they hurt you?”

They glanced at each other, then at her. “Do you want to forgive him?”

“I just… I want to know why.”

“He’s stupid if he left you. Don’t forgive, forget. Move on.”

“Lucifer!”

“Well, Chloe…”

“Don’t listen to him.”

“But the spawn deserves better than someone who can’t see her worth. She is the only little human I’ve ever tolerated, love. Isn’t that proof enough? She’s your child!” Her mother did that weird mouth thing she did when she found Lucifer adorable but didn’t want him to see it. Maybe one day she’d get someone like that, someone who’d tell the world they loved her without even realizing it. Not someone perfect, no; but someone perfect for her. “Well, at any rate. The good doctor says you have to love yourself first, and anything else is a bonus. I suppose she’s right.”

“You know she is, Lucifer.” Her mom’s eyes fell on her empty plate. “Seems like Trixie still loves your food even when she’s sad.”

“Well, it’s the perfect cure.”

“Yeah. Thank you, Mom, Lucifer.”

“I put your overnight bag in the bathroom. Have at it.” He waved his hand at the door and went to stand behind her mother, settling his hands on her shoulders and smiling when she bent her neck backwards to look up at him.

Trixie left the kitchen feeling a bit fuller in the stomach and in the heart.

 

“Should we set Maze on the offender?” Lucifer asked. He ran his fingers through her hair, then produced comb, brush, bobby pins and hair bands from somewhere.

“Hm. Nah, she’d scare him to death.”

“That’s the idea.”

“He’s just a kid.”

He shrugged and then started with the brush, careful never to tug hard, touching her way more than he needed to – along the tendons of her throat, around the shell of her ear, right where tiny fuzzy hair grew on her nape. She closed her eyes and sighed when he gently massaged her scalp for a few minutes, then grabbed her phone and started typing.

He looked over her shoulder and gave his usual sometimes useful, sometimes entirely unneeded and inappropriate comments as she pretended she wasn’t amused, and he went on working on her hair.

After a while though, when she was done texting and the planning was over, she could feel his mood darken again. “And you say this kind of thing happens to all of you humans?”

“Well, most of us, yeah.”

“Who caused you pain?”

“Lucifer…”

He didn’t say anything for a while, dividing her hair before he started braiding it. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Life hurts, sometimes. Love, too.”

“I didn’t want to, and yet I did.” His voice was as harsh as his hands soft. “I don’t know why you chose to give me another chance. I didn’t…”

She caught his fingers, trapping them and a lock of hair between her palm and her collarbone. “Stop it.”

“I have to start all over again,” he said after being silent for a while.

She pushed her chair back to stand up and turn to face him, to draw his head down to hers. To kiss his forehead, the tip of his nose, his lips. “That’s all right. We have time.”

“Do we? Chloe, _do we?_ ”

“All the time in the world.” She cupped his jaw and proceeded to distract him in the best way she knew.

 

He heard the spawn get out of the bath and took the smallest step away from Chloe. He couldn’t go far, he wouldn’t; and anyway she had two fingers tucked in his belt and he didn’t want to dislodge them.

“Guys…”

Chloe’s small, strong hand pushed at his chest a bit and he let himself be moved away. Just a little. “Hey, Trix. Sorry about that.” About what?

“It’s fine, Mom.” About, about kissing the Detective? Ah. The child had just been cast aside by her boyfriend; perhaps it was… insensitive? Was that the word? “You two are just too cute to hate.” Cute? He was the devil! Maybe, well. Maybe tame around her mother, for her mother; by her hand. But the devil nonetheless.

“Still. Any plans for today? I think your dad is free.” Chloe started to gather the hair things on the table, and he stopped her.

“I haven’t finished.”

“Mom’s hair mostly looks like you haven’t even started, Lucifer.” The child had a small smile on her lips, was that a good sign?

“Nevermind my hair. Ella’s with her nephew today, and Maze said she could be free if we let her have her own fun.”

Did she mean gambling and bars?”

“Probably.”

“That’s my – that’s a demon for you.”

“Well, that’s Maze at any rate. So what do you say, Trix?”

The offspring didn’t look too enthusiastic and Lucifer suspected she only agreed to please her mother, but agree she did and he didn’t have time to do more than a quick plait after all.

And so off they went, piling up in Chloe’s boring, respectable car and stopping for supplies and to fill the cooler in the boot with food and drinks, and ending up a far larger group than had been first planned. Dr Martin was already settled on a beach chair while Maze was massaging her feet, pumps discarded in the sand, and Daniel was seemingly arguing with – oh, no – Amenadiel over the proper way of setting up a picnic.

“Luci! Come on, what do you think?”

“What?”

“What should be in the middle, the chips or the pasta salad?” His brother was only wearing swimming trunks. Bright blue ones. “Aw, don’t roll your eyes, we’re family, we should stick together! Tell him you agree with me!”

“Detective Espinoza doesn’t care much right now, I think.” He’d put his salad bowl on the sand to hug the child better, and given the way things were going they were probably in for a long father-daughter chat.

“Oh, you’re right. Her boyfriend left her, right?”

“He did. I imagine you might have advice for her? Given your experience and all.”

Amenadiel glared at him. “At least I can take my jacket off on a beach.”

“Yes, well, maybe you think you’re too sexy for a shirt, but let me tell you – ”

“Well, your brother does look good without a shirt.”

“Chloe!” Betrayal! This was betrayal, pure and simple. And now the big oaf was grinning at him like he’d won or something and that was just not to be borne; just because he’d taken off…

“Aw, you’re so easy.” Her arm slipped under his and he looked down at her, into her eyes, crinkled into a smile that was just for him. They were barefoot in the sand and the top of her head just reached his shoulder, and Amenadiel couldn’t have her. No one could, really; _she_ chose. _Please_ , he thought, _choose me and don’t change your mind. Especially not for my brother._

She dragged him to the large blanket where Ella and Tommy were, studiously bent over diagrams on a tablet and debating the architectural merits of sand pyramids versus sand castles. The tools of the trade were already spread out next to them, ready for use. Lucifer let himself be convinced to take his linen jacket off at least, and soon Chloe had positioned him to her liking so she could sit between his knees like a queen on her throne.

He rested his chin on her hair as soon as she started sprawling a bit more after her first beer. She knew he’d keep her mostly upright anyway, and he let the sun warm him and lull him into a half-awake state while she slid down his chest again after lunch and she’d put on sunscreen, giant sunglasses and a baseball cap. He felt her take soft, regular breaths with every slight move of her body against his, and he was… quiet, so quiet inside; no need for noise or drugs or to draw everyone’s attention to him. He could just be, and watch Daniel destroy Amenadiel at chess, Ella almost take his brother’s head off with a Frisbee, and Beatrice doing judo throws on Maze while Tommy was dozing under a giant beach umbrella at Dr Martin’s feet.

There was a slight breeze coming from the ocean, cooling them just enough to balance the heat of the sun and making the good doctor’s magazine rustle from time to time. His eyes were at half-mast, and he was considering just closing them for good and daydreaming all curled around the Detective until sunset, when Maze’s angry voice pushed him back into the world.

Ah, that was the former boyfriend. He could feel the force of Maze’s glare even though it wasn’t directed at him, and the boy didn’t stand a chance. Although… although after a while, he realised he’d backed off a little but now stood his ground, albeit silently. The spawn had both feet firmly planted in the ground, her arms crossed; and clearly in no mood for leniency. Then, the boy – Brian, if memory served – started talking, apologizing, _explaining_ ; and Dan’s mighty frown didn’t deter him. He could feel Chloe’s surprise, the sudden tension in her muscles.

Lucifer’s own surprise quickly morphed into anger, and he probably would have stood up and stalked to him if there hadn’t been a whispered “don’t, please” in his ear. Everyone was waiting for Beatrice’s reaction and was trying hard not to kick him out of their little corner of the beach for her.

But then she answered. She answered that she appreciated that it took guts to come to her while she was surrounded by her family, to tell her he regretted obeying his parents’ wish that he stop seeing a girl whose life and acquaintances included divorced parents, one Lucifer Morningstar infamous for owning a nightclub that was ‘a den of sin and demons’ (Maze grinned at that), a leather-clad black lesbian and other horrors. She said she accepted his apology, welcomed him to try and see how wrong his family was, and that she did not want to date him anymore. That she didn’t need him. That maybe they could be friends, but that – she looked back at them all before facing the boy again – self-worth came from within, and that she deserved only the best. That she already had the best.

“I want to be better myself, you know. I don’t want to be my parents.” _Who does?_ Well. Chloe had always admired her father, and the spawn had always adored her mother; and both were perfectly justified. Not everyone had parents like theirs, he thought as he glanced at Amenadiel.

“I’m so proud of my little monkey,” she said as the boy left and Beatrice ran into her father’s arms.

“You are right to be. You’ve always been…” He kissed her temple. “She’s lucky to have you as her mother.”

“She’s lucky to have all of us.”

“Well, some of us are the source of the problem.”

“We all are. His parents object to anything and anyone. At least he’s actively trying to learn about life outside their close-minded pettiness.” She sat up a bit. “It’s hard not to intervene, though. To see her in pain and let her make her own choices.” She kissed his neck, right above the collar of his shirt. “It’s hard to be a parent. Every mistake you make, every hurt you cause or can’t prevent…”

“You love her. You and Daniel, you love her and she’s never had cause to doubt that.”

Dr Martin tapped her rolled up magazine on her chin. “Well, I do recognize Maze’s influence when she holds her ground like that, but you certainly did a great job raising her.”

“Aw doc, my influence is great.”

The good doctor’s smile at Maze – who was indeed wearing leather – was probably answer enough.

 

Lucifer had been pensive since that afternoon, and when Ella  had suggested they all gather at her place  that evening after Ricardo had come to pick up his son Chloe had bowed out, pretexting she was tired from too much sun.  Lucifer tried to convince her to stay with her daughter but Trixie took one look at him, threw her arms around his chest and squeezed like her life depended on it.  She didn’t see his  flinch , but Chloe did.  Still… 

“Are you sure, monkey?”

“Yes, Mom. I’ll be fine, and you want some alone time with Lucifer, right?”

“You’ve grown so much, sometimes I don’t know how you’ve gone from pigtails to…” She waved a hand instead of finding words that she’d never have anyway, and soon enough everyone was gone except them two.

“I’d have thought you’d want to go with your offspring.”

“I can, if you want to be alone. Bu you don’t look like you want to be alone. What’s eating at you?”

“Nothing.”

“Not nothing. Is it what Brian said about his parents?” She tried to ran a comforting hand on his shoulders, but when she slid down a little over his scars he hissed between his teeth. The sound was quickly cut off, but that a definitely a talk they should have, too. “Lucifer?”

“It’s – ”

“Don’t say it’s nothing or I swear I’m going to punch you right where it hurts.”

“I… not here, then.”

“All right.” They shook the sand out of the blanket and folded it, and she carried it back to the car while he took the cooler. “This is the beach, right?”

“The beach?”

“ _The_ beach. You know what I’m talking about.”

He sighed and turned to look back at the sand. “Yes, it is. Where we arrived, where I made Maze cut them off, where I burned them.”

“Where I kissed you.”

He smiled a little. “Where you kissed me.”

She kept her hand on his thigh for the drive.

 

He supposed he shouldn’t have expected a detective like Chloe to go on ignoring it, but he’d hoped for it nonetheless. She gave him time; when they got back to his penthouse they puttered about, putting things back where they belonged – cooler back in the cupboard, dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She teased him for being a neat freak, and he couldn’t help the probably very silly smile on his face when she ruffled his hair as he was precisely refolding the blanket before putting it back in what she called the picnic shelf.

“I feel gross, I’m going to have a shower.” She started unbuttoning his shirt. “Join me?” Always, he thought. He was pretty sure he didn’t need to say it. “Or we could have a bath, and you could be my pillow.” Oh, she was clever. 

“Chloe…” Her fingers were warm and dry on his stomach, sliding down and undoing his belt. She’d done it so many times, and it still made his breath catch.

“What is happening, Lucifer?” She nudged him in the shower, closed the glass door behind her. “It’s been getting worse and worse for weeks. You won’t even let me look at it properly, you act as if every touch is painful, you’re careful not to lean on anything. Hmm. You’re trying to distract me,” she added. Her forehead settled on his sternum, and he watched the foam run down her smooth back.

The last grains of sand whirled away in the eddies at their feet, and soon they were out; and he couldn’t protest when she turned him to look her fill at the angry scars. “ It’s even uglier than before.”

“It mostly looks like it hurts.” She settled her palm on the top of his spine. “Did you talk about it with Maze or your brother?”

“No.”

“I think she noticed something is wrong. I’m not sure about him.”

“She probably has. And I don’t want to tell him, because…” He had to face it, hadn’t he. “I think they’re growing back. Well, I think they’re trying to.”

“It doesn’t look that way.”

“I don’t want them. I asked Maze to cut them off to be free, I don’t want to be in my father’s debt.”

“What… do you mean you’re doing this to yourself?”

“I just don’t want them! I don’t want what they mean, I don’t want to be my father’s pawn, I just… I don’t want them.” He sat on the edge of the mattress.

“Why do you think that’s what they’re about?”

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a gift.”

“A gift? A gratuitous act, with no ulterior motive? I can’t believe that.” 

“Or maybe it’s just your own body healing itself.”

“Why would it? It wouldn’t make sense, would it?”

“Well.” She paused. “Lucifer, have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently?” He tilted his head. “I mean, at your other face.”

“Chloe…”

“Come.” She pulled him up and stood next to him, his hand held in hers, in front of the mirrored door of his dressing. “Come on.” She squeezed his fingers.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know.” She wouldn’t budge, he could see it on her face – determined and yet affectionate. He didn’t deserve her. She deserved better than a mask over a burnt, scarred face. He closed his eyes and let it fade away, because she’d asked. “Look. Look at yourself.”

He finally did, and – he didn’t recognize the face looking back at him. It was… He actually could go out in broad daylight without people running away screaming. Staring, yes. Losing their sanity, probably not.  Well, the eyes were still red. “ How … how long?”

“It’s been getting better and better for months. How could you not have noticed?”

“I…” Well. He always tried to avoid his reflection. “But when we catch bad guys, they still…”

“You’re still the devil. They’re still guilty. It’s not your appearance that’s scary, Lucifer. It’s when you let who you are show. When they realize they can’t escape their crime, their fate.”

He looked into her eyes in the mirror  as the burns faded into his more usual five o’clock shadow . “Why now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a gift, maybe it’s forgiveness. Maybe it’s asking for forgiveness. Maybe he thinks now, you might accept it.”

His father, making amends? He didn’t quite buy it. “Forgiveness…  Chloe, why did you forgive me? ”

“It felt right.”

“I hurt you, repeatedly.”

“It would have hurt less if you’d explained. But I understand why you didn’t want to. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

“ _I hurt you._ ”

“You hurt yourself, too. And as misguided as you were, you did it for me.”

“I was wrong.”

“You know, you need to forgive yourself, too.”

“And yet you’re proud of your daughter for choosing not to entirely forgive the wanker.”

“Forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting, Lucifer. It’s not erasing the past. It’s… letting go, I guess. I’m proud of her for making her own choices and putting herself and her own well-being first. For not depending on anyone to know her worth. For accepting she has all of us for her when she needs it and not going it alone.” Chloe leaned a little against his shoulder, and her hair fanned over his back. It was soothing, and he closed his eyes. “I can’t believe she’s that young and that old, sometimes. It scares me a little.”

It scared him too, because he was pretty sure Beatrice was destined for _something_ ; but he didn’t want to worry her mother. “Well, you made her and raised her. Of course she’s one of a kind.”

He watched a smile bloom on her face. “She loved you from the moment her eyes fell on you. She might have high standards now. No dating before you die for me. No hand-holding if you’re not an angel.”

“And sex only if you’re as handsome as the devil?”

She made a face and her nose crinkled and he wanted to kiss its tip. “Ew. I really, really don’t want to think about that.” He bent and kissed it, because why not?

“What about you having sex with the devil, right now?”

“Hm. I might be convinced. Maybe.”

“I’ll do my best to convince you, then.” He moved her hair to one side and, one hand still lost in it, let his lips trail from her shoulder to her neck, from her neck to her jaw, to her mouth; all the while nudging her towards the bed until she fell back on it with a laugh.

He followed her, and he thought that sometimes – sometimes – his father’s actions might deserve the name of miracles.

 

She vaguely remembered dreaming  of a cocoon, of softness and warmth, when a gust of wind woke her up. She half-opened her eyes but the window seemed shut. It was still night outside and  so she burrowed back under the sheet,  her arm around his waist .

And suddenly she was fully awake.  He was sleeping on his back,  his face turned in her direction,  his features soft and relaxed and his lips slightly curved up into a Mona Lisa smile. “Lucifer… ?” she whispered.

A small star appeared in the Los Angeles sky where no star ever shone, and then the dark night sky started to lighten. 

It was morning.

 


End file.
